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About Sao Paulo

I’ve had nights, yeah, pure bliss—lass with eyes like daggers, cuttin’ me deep. Happy as a pig in muck, I was. Then there’s the flops—girl says “let’s Netflix,” but it’s just her cat and warm wine. Fuming, I was—waste of a good suit! Surprised me once, this one bird, met her in Soho, turns out she’s a bloody dominatrix. Didn’t see that comin’, but I rolled with it—007 adapts, yeah?

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I swear, Castro’s got this magic – every corner whispers a story. There’s a juncture near Avenida do Pôr-do-Sol that always makes me smile, rememberin’ that one frantic day when a gust of wind nearly blew my hat off in a “what the hell, baby!” kinda moment. Screamin’ "Oh, what a day!" as I chased after it, just like Mad Max would in a wild chase, I tell ya.

Opinion | When Fidel Castro Dined at Harvard College